


Round the Corner of Darkness

by lupusnoctis003



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hope, Minor Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, POV Rhysand (ACoTaR), Sad Rhysand (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupusnoctis003/pseuds/lupusnoctis003
Summary: Rhysands Prov from Under the Mountain when he starts to have dreams of Feyre
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Kudos: 24





	Round the Corner of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fanfiction so be warned

The shadows that lurked around my heart were begging to thicken, every day was a struggle, each night was spent warming the bed of a monster and day was spent manipulating, killing and anything foul and cruel. I guess that was just what I had become, a monster, a murderer, a shell of what I used to be. 47 years of my immortal life had been spent in this hell hole, but even that pitiful number seemed like centuries. Hope, that fragile thing that pushes people to survive had long since left me, the same way I deserted my family I suppose. Would they ever be able to forgive me? Would I ever be able to forgive myself? No, of course not, for who could ever forgive themselves for staining their hands with the blood of innocents? Not I, nor anyone else. I guess this was my destiny, whoever knew it could be so cruel? 

It was three torturously long nights later that I had my first glimpse of my mate, not that I knew it at the time. The scene was quite fuzzy, almost as if someone had coated the setting with mist. Yet, even with all the indistinctness, I could still make out the female hand painting flowers on a table. That memory was something so pure and fragile that I treasured it beyond measure. A female human hand painting flowers on a worn-in table, who knew that that was all it took to bring the high lord of the night court a moment of fleeting happiness and years of unwanted hope. 

As time passed these images of a human female became my life-line. I began to look forward to the nights, even if I was whoring myself out, sleeping in HER bed, I still had these delicate dreams of fragile peace to look forward too. It was only when my 50th year of this hell-hole approached that my dreams changed. The mist disappeared, and the images of the beautiful, fragile human became clearer. And although it was a little insignificant change, it gave me hope. Gave me hope, the same way this human girl who painted flowers on a table gave me hope for a better future, gave me hope to dream once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Don't let the hard days win"  
> \- Sara J. Maas


End file.
